The Death Cure- Alternate Ending
by GuardianWolfe
Summary: She had risked everything for him. Their trust, their friendship, even her own life. All for him. It took this long for him to realize his mistakes, but is it too late?
1. Part 1

Good day readers! A few days ago, I finished reading The Death Cure, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who was devastated by the ending! Here, I present to you an alternate ending. Need I say more? :) I decided to keep some wording identical to the book, in order to stay true to the story in a way. Hope that doesn't cause any issues! This is my first attempt at writing anything like this, so I am especially excited to see your reviews! Comments and suggestions on everything from grammar to style are always welcome! I really hope you enjoy! **~Wolfe**

* * *

 _The scene is W.I.C.K.E.D. Headquarters, the storage room just outside the maintenance room which houses the Flat Trans._

The sounds of explosives deafened him and rocked the room around them.

"Thomas!"

Yet there was a distinct silence, a ringing in his ears from the explosions. He just sat there, staring at the pale face, refusing to release his grip.

"Thomas! Let's go!" It was Minho. "He's dead!"

Thomas suddenly snaps out of his paralysis and lets go of the man's neck, as Minho helps him to his feet.

"We need to go!" Minho shouted in his ear. "And now!"

Minho begins dragging Thomas towards the maintenance room until he finds his footing and is half running, half stumbling along. A coordinated detonation sends both walls of the storage room blasting inwards, throwing cement across the room in varying sizes. Thomas ducks as he covers his head, but keeps running. A cloud of dust follows the fragments as debris rain down all over on Thomas, Minho, and the others. Through the thick smoke, Thomas is able to make out shadowy figures trying to get to the door of the maintenance room. Through all the convulsions they were falling, but getting back up again. Stumbling and faltering, but still moving. Toward salvation. He and Minho shakily run towards the door, the tremors of the explosions never stopping.

* * *

He didn't know it would work. Being on the verge of death makes you forget some things. Things like all of the firearms had been disabled by the intruders. But the building was collapsing. Most rooms were already buried under feet of rubble, including the bathroom in which Thomas had planted the device. He raises his pistol with shaky hands, blood clouding his vision. He can see them, just barely. His fellow soldiers lay dead beside him. Dead. He wouldn't let them get away. Not like this. He cocks the gun, and squeezes the trigger six times, until he is engulfed by darkness, never to move again.

* * *

Over all the noise, Thomas hears a shot ring out. It can't be, he planted the device himself. None of the guards' launchers or pistols worked through this whole encounter. At least not until now. Then another. Realizing it's actual gunfire makes him throw himself on the ground, hands over his head. A splintering, shattering noise splits the air, as a large piece of the ceiling collapses in front of him. He frantically looks around as shots bounce about the concrete near him. Minho has disappeared from his view up ahead. He feels a sharp pain in his shoulder, probably an injury from the previous battle. He can't hear anything above the thunderous noise of the blasts. People are still running towards the Flat Trans around them, some trying to keep low. He sees a figure to the front and a bit to the left. The bullet impacts the back of the runner, a bit of blood spraying out as it makes contact. She jerks backwards and falls on her knees, then forward onto her side.

"Teresa!" Thomas screamed, an unearthly sound that somehow rose above everything else. The shots had ceased, and he scrambles to his feet and sprints towards her. He sees someone running towards him from the direction of the Flat Trans, but ignores it. Thomas collapses onto his knees beside her, his left hand on her shoulder. He can see the wound where the round entered her back as blood seeps out of it. Putting pressure on the area with his other hand, he turns her over.

It was Brenda.

"Brenda!" He doesn't know what to do. She's unconscious, still breathing, but through rough and quick gasps. The metal had punctured her lung, and she was choking up blood. There is nothing he could do. Just as the gasps halt, he's being dragged by the collar of his shirt. Someone else grabs him under the arm and forces him to his feet. Still looking at her, he stumbles a few steps backwards. Someone is holding his arm now, pulling him to turn around. It's Teresa. "Thomas, I'm really sorry. But we need to go."

"Damn right! The whole thing is about to come down on us!" shouts Minho.

The two of them grab Thomas by the arms and pull him towards the Flat Trans. Everyone else was already through. The deafening roar of the world coming down around them rose to an unimaginable level. The crashing of metal and concrete combined with the explosions and the tremors that came with them amplified. But he never looked back. Together, they jumped into the icy gray wall.

* * *

Thomas landed on the floor of the wooden shed. He coughed from the dust inhaled, his heart racing. He crawled forward to get away from the Flat Trans in case any debris came through. He could barely breathe. Barely think. What had just happened? He flipped onto his back, propped himself up with his elbows, and looked around. Minho and Teresa were looking in his direction, the rest behind them exiting the shed, some helping others who were wounded. Minho offered an arm to help him up as Teresa moved toward some sort of control panel to the Flat Trans on the wall of the shed. He took Minho's hand and was pulled up, then turned to see the Flat Trans flicker for a few moments, then disappear completely. The control panel had vanished also, revealing the cedar planks of the shed behind it.

"How'd you do that?" Thomas asked.

"I didn't do anything. It just happened by itself." Teresa replied.

"I guess the control panel on the other side got obliterated. Can't function with only one, can it?" Minho asked.

"I don't know." Thomas replied. He put a hand to his head.

"Well, either way, there's no going back now." Teresa said.

"Good that." Thomas answered silently. He felt dizzy.

"Good that for sure, slinthead." But Minho didn't have his trademark smirk anymore. Everything that had happened up to this point left its mark even on the tough Minho. At that moment, Thomas swore to himself that he'd never tell Minho about what he had done to Newt. He couldn't bear going through it again. Newt. Perhaps the one person who treated him like a human being when he first got to the Maze. And now he was gone, just like that. By Thomas' actions. He wanted it though. He couldn't endure going through the stages of the virus, being past the Gone. That's all Thomas could think of. At least he didn't turn into...

"Well, let's check this place out." Minho said.

Thomas took a few steps, and almost fell.

"You alright?" Teresa asked.

"Yeah, just a bit shaken I guess." He replied as he regained his balance.

The three of them walked outside, Teresa maintaining space between her and Tom. She knew it was all over after what happened in the Scorch. As hard as it was, she did it all for him, and he was still here, and that was all that mattered right now. Thomas stopped and stared when he got outside. They were in a place he had been told didn't exist anymore. Green. Greener than green. And lush. So much grass, and trees, and life all around them. Like someone had painted a beautiful landscape and put it right there, right in front them. The shack was on a hill overlooking a field of tall grass and wildflowers. The two hundred or so people they rescued were wandering around, some of them even running and jumping. To the right, the hill descended into a valley of towering trees that seemed to stretch on forever, until meeting a wall of rugged mountains that towered into the cloudless, vibrant blue sky. To the left, the field eventually turned into brush and then sand. The ocean's foam-tipped waves were majestic as they crashed onto the flawless beach.

It was paradise.

He grabbed Teresa's hand and looked at her.

"Tom? You look..."

"I feel..." and then he collapsed to the ground.


	2. Part 2

His head hurt terribly. "Hey." He felt weak, unable to move. A low, echoing voice awoke him. "Can you hear me?" His senses began to revive as he slowly opened his eyes. His vision started to clear as he opened them completely and blinked a few times. "Hey, had a nice sleep?" Teresa said softly. She was sitting next to him, her hand on his arm. It was pitch black, her beautiful face illuminated by the flickering glow from some fire nearby. Thomas let out a groan and closed his eyes again. "What happened?"

"You had a bullet lodged in your shoulder. Could have told us earlier you know."

"If I knew." He replied. His head pounded, and his arm ached more than the rest of his entire body did.

"You should be alright, we found someone who was a doctor before all this. He treated you properly with some gear he picked up on our way out of the headquarters. No need to worry about infections or anything. He had gauze and everything."

Thomas opened his eyes again and raised his head to look at his shoulder. It was bandaged, but bloodied all over.

She was sorting through a small pack, taking out a roll of bandaging.

"Sit up." She said softly. "Your bandage needs changing. Wouldn't have awoken you for no reason."

Thomas sits up, wincing as his shoulder pulses in pain. He drinks a cup of water that had been placed next to him, while Teresa carefully begins removing the bloody dressing, unwinding it around Thomas' armpit. She applies the clean bandage, wrapping it back around as the other one was, and secures it. Thomas shifted around, trying to get in a more comfortable position. He was lying on the ground, but the layers of pine boughs below him made for a decent mattress.

He puts his head back down with a sigh and turns his gaze to her.

"What time is it?" He asked.

"I don't know, it's in the middle of the night."

A few seconds pass by as he stares into her burning blue eyes.

"Can you stay a bit longer?" He asked tiredly.

"I've been here all along, haven't I?"

She has. At that, he smiled and took her hand as he drifted back to sleep.

* * *

He was back in the Scorch. That brilliant star blazing high in the dull, lifeless gray sky. He was sweating enough to fill a riverbed, the burning sand blistering his feet as they walked.

Brenda.

He saw glimpses of his past. The night in the truck. In the underneath, escaping from Cranks. The countless times she's tried to cuddle with and kiss him. Even before Teresa did it. He barely felt any guilt letting her behave that way, but now thinking back, he realizes. She worked for W.I.C.K.E.D., hadn't she? Well, then again, so had Thomas. But still. She lied to him, deceived him the whole time. She completely faked having the Flare, and then told him everything in the Scorch was part of her little W.I.C.K.E.D. agenda. And then she changed her mind again, that there really was something there, she claimed.

 _"No. There wasn't."_ He thinks.

But Teresa. She was there from the beginning. Heck, even before that. He'd known her before the Maze, they were best friends. The dreams clearly revealed that, even despite that he refused to get his memories restored. And ever since meeting her in the Maze, he felt something. Something he couldn't describe. Something for her. Whenever they talked in each other's minds, when he stayed with her by the Slammer. Whenever he held her in his arms, assuring her everything'd be alright. That night in the shed. When he kissed her and she screamed for them to run, to get away from her, that it was a trap. Thomas suddenly felt stupid. Incredibly stupid, and embarrassed. He hated himself for being so stubborn, so ignorant, and so easily brainwashed by that random girl from Canada. Teresa had sacrificed everything for him. Their friendship, their trust, and even her life. Despite knowing she would be branded as a traitor and never trusted again, she pushed on and stayed by his side. Even as Brenda took her place alongside him. And even as he was making out with this desperate girl right in front of her. How could he ever do something like that to the one who truly loved him?


	3. Part 3

Thomas woke up sweating, chilled, yet felt like he had a fever. He quickly sat up, slightly groaning as his shoulder dissented the idea.

"Teresa?" No answer.

Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he sniffled a bit.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered to her, knowing she couldn't hear him.

"I'm so sorry."

Thomas looked around and took in his surroundings as he wiped his face covered in salty drops. The fire had recently been put out and was still smoldering. He was in a clearing surrounded by pine trees and some bushes. The sun was still low, among the trees, yet cast a warm glow that lit up the morning forest floor. There were bunches of pine boughs similar to the one he was lying on arranged in a circle around the fire pit. There were small packs and belongings here and there around the sleeping mats. A few plastic cups, some empty clear plastic wraps. He looked at his shoulder. The bandaging was bloody, but not as much as before. He felt lightheaded as he stood up, but it soon went away. He started walking, in no particular direction, but what appeared to be the point of entry for the clearing. There was a gap between two of the pine bough mats that seemed to serve as an entrance. After a few minutes of tripping through a forest having way too many exposed tree roots, Thomas came upon the large grassy hill on which the dilapidated shack slouched. He ran up the side of the hill, on top of which dozens of hastily assembled park benches were placed. More were being constructed by some of the adults from the group. People were eating and drinking from mostly wooden, and a few plastic cups around the tables. Much talking, and even some laughter could be heard all around. Not recognizing anyone in particular, Thomas walked around to the entrance of the shed. Instead of finding a doorway, the opposite wall was torn down and now served as an extension for the roof on supporting logs. There was Frypan in the corner of the building, processing rabbits and squirrels and setting them onto the fire that was burning outside of the shed. There was already some game being roasted over the flames attached to sticks mounted horizontally on supports dug into the ground next to the fire pit.

"Hey there, shuck-face!" Minho exclaimed as he walked over to Thomas. "Oh boy, you need a shower real bad man." He put a hand to his nose in disgust, then dropped it and smiled.

"Hey!" Thomas replied.

"How many times do you need to get shot in the shoulder before you learn that bullets are bad for you?" He says.

"That's hilarious."

Minho hands him a piece of squirrel and walks him over to a table where they sit. There are some greens in a roughly carved wooden bowl in front of them. Thomas grabs a handful as he takes a bite of his roast squirrel. He swallows, then asks: "Where's Teresa?"

"The traitor?" Minho replies with a full mouth. "I don't know, somewhere over there I guess." He says, waving his hand.

"Why do you keep calling her that?" Thomas asks.

"Seriously? Dude, she beat you with a spear, put you in a bag, then had you dragged up the side of a mountain for hours." He says harshly. "Oh yeah, and then she tried to KILL you? Did you take a bullet to the memory storage part of the brain too?"

"She only did it so that I would live." Thomas says quietly.

"You mean so that _she_ would live, right?" Minho countered.

"What? No, she-"

"Whatever Thomas. Whatever you say." Minho said before Thomas could finish what he was saying.

Thomas put his squirrel down and stood up. "I'm not hungry." He said, a hint of anger in his voice.

"Oh, come on." Minho pleaded.

Thomas walked away from the table, and turned in the direction Minho waved earlier, toward the beach and away from the mountain range. He walked past a few rows of tables, each filled with groups of friends eating happily over roast game and fresh salads and drinking from shabby wooden cups. He spotted a large elder oak tree up ahead, far from the rows of tables, and walked towards it. It's huge branches turned and twisted in a serpentine manner, and the abundant dark green foliage seemed like a globe held up by the broad, sturdy trunk that was Atlas. He looked up at the tree as he got to it, mesmerized at its beauty and sheer size. He then walked over to the opposite side and plopped down against the trunk. The view was amazing. The hill overlooked the beach that stretched on and on to the right, and developed into cliffs to the south. He gazed at the waves lazily meeting the pure white sands, then remembered what Minho had said. At one whiff at himself, he decided Minho was probably right and started walking towards the beach.

* * *

The water was pleasantly cool, but like all oceans, fully saturated with salt. He enjoyed the bath to the fullest, but kept his injured shoulder out of the water. It probably wasn't fully scabbed over yet and he didn't feel like having to put a new bandage on anyway. He walked back towards the tree, where once again he took a seat against the trunk with a satisfied sigh. He was dripping wet but there was no fire nearby to dry himself. Suddenly, something hits him in the head and falls onto the ground, bouncing a few times and rolling for a bit before stopping on the grass.

"Ouch!" He yelped, looking around for his attacker.

He found the apple and put it in the pocket of his soaked pants.

"This is my spot." The voice said from above.

Thomas got up and walked over to the other side of the tree, where one of the meandering branches was closer to the ground. He climber onto the thick branch, and continued climbing onto closer branches, each a bit higher than the other. It was a bit difficult with only one arm, the other still throbbed painfully to be of much use. Despite its obviously massive size, the tree seemed a lot smaller from the exterior. Levels of branches ascended above him until disappearing into thick vegetation. Eventually, he found the branch on which a person was sitting by herself, looking towards the ocean.

"Hey, Teresa!" He said smiling, almost falling as he tried to step from the branch he was on onto the next, his good arm clutching the core of the tree. The fact that he was soaking wet didn't make the climb any easier either.

"Hey." She replied, not turning around.

"What's wrong?" He asked, sitting down next to her. His feet hung off the thick branch, and he slowly leaned forward as he grasped a nearby branch for support. Glancing down, he saw he was nearly 20 feet up. A bit too high for total comfort, he quickly pulled back, but didn't let go of the branch for a few seconds.

"Nothing. How's your arm?"

"It's better, thanks." He replied. He looked at her, but she refused to look at him. Her gaze was fixated on the ocean in front of them. He didn't understand how her wavy jet-black hair fell so perfectly along her shoulders. Not a speck of dirt or grime was present in them.

"Hey, here's the apple you 'dropped' before." He says, taking the apple out of his pocket and handing it to her. She didn't take it. Not sure what to make of the situation, he put the apple back in his pocket. "Nice view, huh?"

"Yeah, it's nice." After a few seconds, "What's with you all of a sudden?" She says, looking at him.

"I'm not sure what you mean." He replies, a bit confused.

"You didn't even want to talk to me before..." She trails off, not wanting to bring up yesterday's events. "And now here you are handing me apples?"

"I..." Thomas says, struggling to find words.

"You _what_ , Thomas?" Teresa growls.

"I'm sorry." He finally says. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. About before, about everything... I was a klunkhead." He says, looking down.

* * *

 _"Really? Your girlfriend's dead, so you come running back to me? Please... I might care about you, but I'm not as stupid as you."_ She thinks.

It wouldn't be worth starting an argument, so she just says "See you later", though she didn't really plan on it.

Teresa stood up and turning around, climbed to a lower branch.

"Teresa, wait!" Thomas said.

She sat down on the branch, and then jumped down onto the grass, and started walking. Deep down she knew she still had feelings for him, she always would. But after weeks of pleading for forgiveness and getting not even a hint of compassion in return made her lose hope. She was in a pathetic state of still caring for him, but knowing he never would.

 _"Does he?"_ She thinks for a few seconds. _"No he doesn't you idiot, he just needs a new girl to cuddle with in abandoned trucks."_

Memories flood her vision. Memories of her and Tom when they were kids. Walking together, playing together, working for W.I.C.K.E.D. and designing the stages of the Trials, down to every last detail. _Every_ detail.

Tears stream down her cheeks.

"Tom." She whispers quietly. _"Why the hell did you do this to me?"_

She continues walking, looking down and putting her hands around herself. The ocean breeze had picked up considerably and it was starting to get chilly in her light clothes.

 _"I only ever... cared for..."_

* * *

Dear Readers, I will not be updating this story for a few weeks, as I have some important things to get done. Thank you for spending your valuable time reading my crappy little alternate ending! Until then, **~Wolfe**


	4. Part 4

Thomas turned around, trying to get a view of her through the thick leaves, holding tight onto a branch. No way he was going to try that, especially dripping wet. There was no need to break a leg now. He carefully stood up and made his way back down the branches on which he had climbed up. Getting down wasn't easy either, especially trying to hurry. He slipped a few times, and finally got down onto the soft grass. She was already far away, and he started jogging to catch up.

Then he heard it.

 _"You."_

"What?" He asked, stopping, then turning around as he started walked backwards, but there was no one there.

He turned back around and continued jogging.

Something felt weird, as if someone was aware of his presence. No, vice versa. He kept glancing around, but no one was there. He realizes the feeling is familiar, but can't place it. He finally catches up to Teresa, who was walking at a more brisk pace for a while now.

"Hey..." He says, reaching for her shoulder.

She pulls her shoulder away as his hand grazes her, then turns around and suddenly stops.

"You think you can just make it look like it never happened?" She says loudly and harshly. "I didn't!" She yells. "I was honest the entire time, isn't that what you're supposed to do!?"

"Teresa..."

"But no, you can't even understand that everything I did, everything I had to put myself through was for you, Tom! For _you_ , you idiot!" She slaps him across the face with full force.

Thomas puts a hand to his cheek, the impact was much more painful than he expected, especially not expecting it at all.

She starts sobbing and looks down.

Thomas steps closer to her, putting his hand on her arms just below the shoulder.

"Hey, don't cry." He says softly. "Please don't cry."

He pulls her in closely, hugging her and wrapping his arms around her completely. Her body is small in comparison to his, and radiating with heat. He puts a hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair slowly. He pulls his head back to look at her. He puts the strand of hair in front of her face behind her ear and looks into her eyes. Those piercing, crystal-clear, pale blue eyes. She looks at him, and a tear rolls down her face. She is no longer sobbing, but sniffles a bit. Thomas gently wipes the tear away, and kisses her passionately. She doesn't return it, but doesn't pull away either. He pulls back, and looks at her.

 _"Teresa, please forgive me."_ He says to her inside her mind, not breaking their gaze.

A few seconds pass by, and Thomas isn't sure if it's working.

 _"Teresa?"_

 _"I'm here."_ She replies quietly.

 _"Please, Teresa."_

A few seconds pass.

 _"Not yet."_

She lowers his arms which were still holding her, taking his hands. She then lets them go, turns and walks away.

* * *

My dearest readers! I have decided that I will end this story like so. I know, I know, many of you want updates, but I would hate to disappoint you in the way Dashner did. With that being said, feel free to use your imaginations and continue the story yourselves, reaching the conclusion you desire (which we all would genrally agree on, but people have different ways of reaching it!). Thank you so much for reading my humble creation! Yours truly,

 **~Wolfe**

 **12/19/2015**

 _Oh, and Happy Holidays to you all!_


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